Werewolf
by UniqueExtremeEnigma
Summary: It takes a good man to save another. It takes a great werewolf to love another. Dean finds out from a bi-sex werewolf that all love is different. But time always runs out too quickly, and Dean must find a way to have his forever.
1. Meeting A Mystery Man

Werewolf

* * *

Chapter One

The rain was poaring down heavilly, and the Winchester brothers could barely see anything two feet infront of them, let alone John's journal to read the exorcism. Sooner or later the ink would be washed from the book and Sam would have no basis to get rid of the demon. No matter how close the book got to his face, it was still hard to comprehend the yoda-like written words.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte et sectio, ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica, ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias servire libertáte, te rogámus, audi nos_."

The demon, writhing around in the disappearing devils trap they had created on the ground, screamed. Just as always, that thick black smoke burst out from the mouth, undettered by the rain. It was going back to hell where it belonged.

Immediately, Sam shut the journal and stowed it away inside his jacket for protection, shivering when the water from the book touched his somewhat dry shirts. But if it preserved the writing inside the book, he didn't mind so much.

"Where ... am I? What happened?" This was naturally what the man said as soon as he came round, with the demon gone from his body, he was able to do things for himself, something that he hadn't been able to do.

Dean made up a cover story, and this time it did not revolve around sleepwalking or 'this is nothing but a dream, a really, really vivid dream'. Sam wanted to pummel him the first time that he said it, as though it were intended as a joke, but it wasn't funny. Nothing about a possession was funny, even if the demon had gone back to hell, it would _never_ be funny.

"Come on, Sam," Dean muttered when they were sure that Dr. James Frank from the Memorial Hospital in town was going to be okay. The brothers ran through the rain, heads bowed down so the rain wouldn't get in their eyes, to the Impala, almost flinging themselves inside the warm, closed off space. Dean realised then just how cold he was when he got inside, starting to shiver. No doubt he'd come up with a cold in a couple of days.

"Come on, now lets head to the Roadhouse," Sam sniffled, trying to wipe the water off his face with his hand, but because his skin was moist, it didn't have the desired effect. "Or at least get out of these wet clothes ..."

Dean shot him a glare quickly as he started up the car. "You're so not getting changed in the backseat," he said. "You'll probably dry off soon anyway. Its going to take us a couple of hours to get to the Roadhouse."

That was the truth, the Roadhouse was two-to-three hours from where they were, and even Dean's driving couldn't make that trip any shorter. Sam would just have to deal the best way that he could, sitting in clothes that would make squelching sounds everytime he moved on the upholstered seats. Talk about uncomfortable. But he dealt, he really did. Dean didn't seem to be much happier than him either.

Finally, after their clothes were partially dry, the rain had died down to a bare drizzle, and the hours had ticked by, the Roadhouse was infront of them. That made Sam silently cheer and want to do the Rain Dance ... Well maybe not. He almost jumped out of the car in his excitement, running around to get the bags - any bags, he didn't care if he got Dean's by mistake. He just wanted dry clothes and warmth.

Ellen had been alerted by the Winchesters that they were coming. This was only the second time they had come around, the first time was just over a month ago when their father died. Hopefully this time would be a little less desolate.

Dean knocked twice on the screen door and then entered, letting their presence be known to anyone inside. Naturally, during the day most human life in the Roadhouse was practically non-existant, except for a few overnighters who were too drunk to legally drive. The brothers only got a second to take in their surroundings when platinum blond hair obscured their vision. Jo.

"Couldn't stay away, could you?" she teased, a big flirtacious grin on her face.

Dean grinned, shouldering his weapons bag more securely. "Guess not," he replied, shrugging lightly so as to not dislodge any of his bags. "Hey Ellen!" he called toward the bar where a middle-aged, attractive woman stood, cleaning a couple of glasses. "How's it going?"

Ellen lifted her hand to wave at the boys. "Hey, just getting a little cleaning done, you wouldn't believe how many pathetic drunks were here last night. Bunch of unruly slobs ... How'd the demon hunt go?"

"Success," Sam said, dropping the bags by his feet and he sat up on one of the few stools around the outside of the bar. "Unfortunately the weather wasn't on our side."

Ellen nodded knowingly. "I hear you," she said with an eyeroll. "Tried to go out and get some more pretzels a couple of hours ago, the rain was coming down so heavy I could have had a shower out there."

Dean cringed; that was so not a good mental image. "I think our dad's journal copped the worst of it, though. I don't think the words as legible as they were before." He held out his hands, fingers wiggling in impatience, Sam pulled out the still-wet journal and handed it to him.

The writing was a tad smudged, though the general idea of the word remained the same. Exorcizamus had the 'zamus' taken out, but that was practically the first word to almost every exorcism. If not all.

"Ah, but Sam's like the walking, talking deal," Ellen assured, smiling at the youngest Winchester. "I'm pretty sure you guys will be alright with that one." She looked down at the bags at the boys feet. "You guys want a room?"

Dean nodded. "Yes, please." There was no way they could continue to travel around at this point, they needed a break, and Dean figured that he and Sam more than deserved one. "I'm thinking we're going to be stickin' around for a little while."

Looking up, Ellen eyed him seriously. "You're not going to stir up some trouble around here?" she asked, having more than enough of troublemakers in the Roadhouse.

The brothers shared a look and simultaneously pressed their hands to their chests. "We promise, cross our hearts," Sam and Dean spoke together, as though they were fraternal twins with the same mind set. Ellen could only chuckle.

"Alright, I'll trust you now. You make a move on my daughter though," she warned Dean specifically, "I will gut you bow to stern."

Dean held up his hands in the classic 'I surrender' style. "Don't you worry, Ellen. I won't." She had more of a concern about keeping Jo away from _him_. Wasn't his fault she kept flirting with him.

Ellen gave them a room key and assigned them a room upstairs and right down the hall to the left hand side. Room 40.

As soon as they got up to the landing, Dean glanced down the end of the hall out of habit, what he saw made him pause. A blond man, younger than Dean by a couple of years, stood in in the corner, facing away from the hall, his hands on both sides of the connecting walls. He was breathing heavilly, chest heaving like he was having trouble breathing. Sam unlocked the door, not noticing the man - not that he could be blamed, the man almost blended.

"Sam, could you take my bags in?" Dean asked, dropping the bags at his brothers feet, and nodding over to the man. "I'm going to make sure he's okay," he added in an undertone so nobody else but Sam could hear.

Nodding, Sam watched as Dean made his way down the hall, this was one of the reasons why he looked up to Dean. It was the simple fact that he was a good, kind-hearted person. He might be a brash hunter, but when he wasn't hunting something down, his true persona shone through. Someone who cared about others without consequence, or rather, unafraid of the consequences. Quickly, Sam unlocked the door and pushed it open, grabbing as many bags as he could carry, and chucking them in before getting the rest. He did not want to be out in the hall, just for some reason he couldn't do it.

"Hey, man," Dean began, thrusting his hands in his damp jacket pockets. "Are you alright?"

The man flinched, cursing himself internally for allowing others to see him like this. "I'm fine," he rasped, his throat parched. "I'm fine, just ... just leave me alone."

Dean wasn't ready to give up on this that easy. He was known for his determination and persistance.

"Is there anything I can get you?" he offered. "A drink? Or ... or something to eat?"

"No!" The man shouted, which really was a feat, taking into consideration of how dry his throat was. In an instant, he turned around and pushed Dean off his feet. "Get away! Just get away!"

Dean was more than surprised as he stared up into the bright, piercing blue eyes of the man, who immediately softened at the hurt expression the hunter on the ground was giving him. But there was no getting over the fact that he needed Dean to get the hell away from him right _now_. But there was no doubt if he went downstairs, he'd come across more of them and inevitably make it more worse than it already was.

"Meat ... Meat, please?"

Dean smiled and clambered up to his feet, favouring his chest that was still smarting from where he was knocked off his feet. That blow had been pretty hard, and that was saying something if it hurt Dean.

"I'll get you some meat," Dean assured, patting the man's arm and then running down the hall to the stairs, jumping them by two's. "Ellen! Do you have any meat? Any at all?"

Ellen paused in her act of wiping down the bar. "Why?'

Dean pointed up the stairs. "Some man needs it upstairs, could you give me some?"

Recognition surged through her, and Ellen immediately ran for the freezer. "Dear, God. Not now ..." It just had to be now, didn't it? She came back with still warm chicken, knowing that's what he preferred. "Here you go," she said, and then emphasised, "Hurry."

Dean nodded, and then took off as fast as he could. The man had slid down in the corner, clutching his stomach with one hand, while his other arm was draped over his knees with his head resting on the crook of his elbow. As if smelling the meat, his blond head lifted, and finally a smile - a genuine smile - cracked the stoic expression on his face.

"Thank you," he rasped, taking the chicken and wolfing it down in under five minutes. "Thanks for getting this for me."

Seated on the ground next to him, Dean nodded in acknowledgement to the gratifications.

"No problem," he said easily, shrugging. "I'm Dean Winchester by the way."

"Jeff Hardy," was the response. "You a hunter?"

Dean nodded proudly. "Born and bred, what about you?"

Jeff Hardy nodded, licking the juices off his fingers and wiping his hands on his jeans. "I wasn't born one, but ... I became one when I was sixteen." He nodded again, a small smile tugging on his lips. "You hunt alone?"

"Nope," Dean replied immediately. "I hunt with my little brother. My dad died recently ... he was a hunter, too."

"I hope you don't mind my asking ... What was it that killed your dad?" Jeff winced, apologetic about having asked such a thing about a recently deceased loved one of the man he was talking to. Normally, someone would have reprimanded him for that.

"Yellow-Eyed Demon," Dean replied, having no trouble talking about John. He immediately took the plate Jeff had set on the ground, brown juices still floating around on the plate. "I'll take that back out, Jeff. Seeing as I'm the one who brought it out." He extended his hand down, uncaring to the fact that the other hunters moist once-saliva covered hand slapped into his. He wasn't girly about that, he could easily wash his hands later.

"Thanks," Jeff said again, and Dean figured he had a habit of saying that word. "I appreciate your help, Dean."

"No problem," Dean said again, and then turned away, taking the stairs at a more slower pace than what he did before. He went behind the bar and washed the plate, knowing that Ellen had enough to do already. "Jeff's fine," he answered her questioning look. "Just needed something to eat and he was good to go."

"Oh," Ellen said, looking relieved. "That's good."

Watching her posture relax, Dean couldn't help but ask, "Do you know why he needed meat specifically?"

She smiled at him, though it had too much forced innocence in it. "Oh, no Dean. That's probably what he preferred at the time."

"You know him?" he asked, bowing his head down with raised eyebrows.

Jo came up next to him then. "Of course we know him," she said. "He helped us out a couple of months back with a poltergeist. Nasty rogue bastard that thing was." She splayed her arms out on the table with a coy smile. "Why do you want to know?"

Dean shrugged. "Helped him out upstairs when he seemed to be distressed or something." He patted the counter and then flipped around. "I better head on up to Sam before he thinks something is going on. He has a nasty way of thinking the worst."

Jo and Ellen shared a look while his back was turned, they were communicating.

"Well, you two should get some rest while you're at it," Ellen figured, putting on her motherly personality again. It came so naturally. "You both had a long hunt, and trip to get here. Don't want you passing out on my floor."

Dean chuckled lightheartedly. "Will do, Ellen. See you later, Jo." Hunters needed to get as much sleep as they possibly could, because between hunts and travelling, there wasn't much time for sleep, and any spare time should be spent sleeping or getting some money to travel. When he got upstairs, the hall was clear, so he pushed open the door to his room that was left unlocked. "All good," he told Sam, who spun around to face him immediately. "Nothing more to worry about."

A smile pulled on Sam's features. If anyone could instill peace like that, it was his brother. "So what happened?"

"I dunno," Dean admitted. "Got mad at me once and pushed me over, but all he needed was some meat and he was fine."

Sam frowned. "All he needed was food, and he made you run down and get it?"

There was something wrong with that picture for Sam, why would a person act in such a way if all he needed was some meat to make him better? Especially when all he had to do was walk downstairs and get some. The Roadhouse wasn't exactly void of food, it was real easy to get some. But also the fact that as soon as he had something, he was better again. Strange. Of course, Dean didn't think much of it, maybe Jeff just didn't have anything to eat for a while and just went crazy from the hunger. He'd seen it happen before.

"Did you get a name?" Sam asked.

"Sure did," Dean said, grinning from ear to ear as he sat down on the bed closer to the door. "His names Jeffrey Hardy - or Jeff, as he apparently likes to be called. He's a hunter, just like us."

Sam's eyebrows shot up so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline. "He's a hunter? And his name is Jeff Hardy?" Dean nodded in confirmation. "Did you ask what room he's in?"

"You plan on stalking him or something? Just let it go, Sam," Dean advised. "He's fine now, its done."

That wasn't the reason why Sam wanted to see him. "I just got to ask him a couple of things, that's all. I'm just curious. Did you ask what room he's in, or not?"

Dean shook his head. "No, I didn't," he said. "I was more wrapped up in helping the guy rather than ask for what room he's staying in, Sam." He rested his hands on his knees and leaned in toward his brother. "When you help someone out Sam, those kinds of trivial things don't cross your mind."

"But I need to ask him something," Sam protested, sounding like a little kid again.

Closing his eyes, Dean took a breather before answering. "If he's downstairs tonight, I will tell you, Sammy. I promise I'll tell you he's there. Just hold off a little bit longer on the interview, pal."

Concieving defeat, Sam slumped on his bed, knowing he wouldn't be able to convince Dean otherwise. There was just no point in going from door to door, disturbing people. It might backfire and get them kicked out long before they wanted to leave. It was nice staying here, almost like the home they never had.

In a couple of minutes, Dean's body went lax against the headboard of the bed, and his soft snores filled the room. Up until then, he hadn't realised just how exhausted he really was. Sam smiled over at his big brother again, and snuggled down into the bed, finding the fetal position comfortable, and he fell asleep not long later.

Stomping up the stairs, Ellen went to door thirty-eight and almost broke it down with her fist, in a couple of minutes, it swung open and Jeff stood there, immediately looking guilty at the sight of her.

"Damn right you better look guilty! You want to be a little bit more careful there, Jeffrey?" she asked. "Now Dean Winchester may not be the sharpest, but he's definitely sharp enough to figure it out. Its his brother you got to worry about, he'll be onto you like a thumb tack!"

"Ellen, I'm sorry," Jeff apologised sincerely. "I was going to come down, but it just got overpowering, and I couldn't do it. I never meant for anyone to find me like that."

Ellen shook her head, slapping her hand against the doorframe near his face. He didn't flinch. "You best be careful from now on. Those boys are John Winchester's, and they've been trained almost all their lives to recognise one of you. Sooner or later they are going to figure it out if you keep behaving like this."

At the mentioning of Dean being John Winchester's son, Jeff's eyes went wide. He doubted there was a single hunter or demon out there who didn't know about him. He barely registered that shock when Ellen walked away, a loud thump echoing around the room with every step.

**To Be Continued ... **


	2. When Talking Equals Brawling

Chapter Two

Dean finally felt more refreshed than he ever had before when he woke up. With the Roadhouse as secured as it was, there was nothing to worry about it, and he was able to relax. This was why he loved the Roadhouse. Sam was still asleep on the bed on the other side of the room, looking as peaceful as Dean had ever seen him. Hunger made itself known by sending a low growl through his stomach. Damn it.

Pushing himself out of bed, he rolled his shoulders to release some of the stiffness in them from sleeping on the headboard. Leaning over, he placed a gentle hand on Sam's side and shook him. If Dean was hungry, Sam sure had to be.

"Come on, kiddo," Dean whispered, having no idea why he was keeping his voice down. "Time to get up. We need to get something to eat. And don't you want to ask Jeff a couple of questions? I bet he's down there."

That did the trick, Sam sat up and rubbed at his eyes, mumbling curses about being woken up long before he was ready. But the fact that he might get the opportunity to ask the questions that had been burning inside him. Even after a couple of hours sleep, he still remembered what they were. Word for word.

Pushing his feet into his shoes, Sam made his hair lye down, as it was sticking up in horns. If there was a crapload of people downstairs, he wasn't going down looking like he just had sex. Might make it a little bit awkward when he walked down the stairs with Dean.

"Lock the door behind you," Dean said as they got out into the hall. "Don't want anyone making themselves comfy in there."

Good point. Sam pulled out the key and shoved it in the lock, hearing the satisfying click, and then re-pocketed the key. Now there was no way for anyone to get in there, and no way for anyone to know they had weapons that were pretty much illegal. Who owns a machete? Not many people. Not unless they bought them over ebay or something.

It was a friggin' party downstairs. All the chairs and lounges were filled up, people were playing pool and poker, and Ellen seemed to be sorting out some sort of fight. The men she was trying to restrain on her own were still going at each other. Dean made his way over to her.

"There a problem here, Ellen?" he asked, drawing himself up, which wasn't needed because he was still taller than the two of them. Ellen sagged in relief, she might be a tough woman, but not against a couple of bulky hunters. "Do you need any help ... getting rid of some trash?"

Smartly, the taller one of the two reclaimed his beer and marched off with a purpose, leaving the one he had been fighting with standing alone looking stupid. Sam smiled, Dean only had to walk up to them to stop the fight. Says a little something about Dean.

"That went well," Dean chuckled, standing next to Sam. "Don't you think?"

"Well, better than what it could have gone," Ellen admitted. "You fella's have no idea how bad it gets here." She gave them a good humoured eyeroll. "Hey! Get away from there!"

Sam chuckled as Ellen went to stop a drunk from getting behind the bar to the alcohol. "I love the Roadhouse at night time," he told Dean. "Its got to be one of the most active place in history."

Dean agreed with him, and then practically bumped into Ash as he tried to pass. "Hey, what's up, Ash?" he asked, clapping the shorter guy on the back.

"Dean, Sam," Ash slurred, halfway drunk. "Sam and Dean." He clapped the elder Winchester on the shoulder, who stepped out of range, wondering what the hell could be on the man's hand, and not wanting to get his good - and only - jacket dirty. "Nuzzin' up ... yoo?"

The brothers just stared at him like he was out-of-this-world. They thought the normal Ash was weird, this was beyond anything they had expected. But Sam found it funny too, as he began to chuckle, trying to hide it through some coughs, not quite getting the job done right, however.

And then someone bumped into Dean as they were passing through, and the experienced hunter turned around. Surprise welded through him.

"Jeff?"

The blond man turned around, and then grinned at who called his name. "Hey, hey. What's up?" he asked, clapping Dean on the arm. "Didn't think I would see you down here. Like someone used humans for bombs and shot 'em in here, or something. Crowds fuckin' insane!"

Dean laughed. "No, my brother and I just woke up, didn't expect it to be like a freakin' party."

"Dean, who are you talking to?" Sam asked, smushing between some drunk man and his brother so he could stand beside him.

"This is Jeff, the guy I helped out today. Jeff, this is my brother Sammy, I hope you don't mind, but he wants to ask some questions. Formerly aspiring paparazzi or something," Dean snarked, and then almost gave Sam a hard shove in Jeff's direction, who looked pleasantly surprised that someone wanted to ask him something.

"Sure, no problem."

Sam only needed that confirmation, and he gripped Jeff by the elbow and tugged him off toward the bar. Jeff was just shy of being taller than Sam, which meant he almost towered over a barely six-foot Dean. He was mostly all legs, and what was of his torso (covered by a skin tight midnight-blue shirt) was compromised of muscle. He wasn't ripped, more on the tall, gangly-but-muscled kind. Like Sam.

Dean had to laugh at the look on Jeff's face as he was dragged off by a complete stranger. That was priceless. Maybe he should set Sam on strangers and compare similar reactions. Only, he hoped that his freaky brother wouldn't scare anybody and cause a mass riot. That would indefinitely get them kicked out, regardless of whether Dean was involved or not. Ash was still standing there, swaying dangerously on the spot, looking about ready to puke.

"Ash, I think its time you went back to your room," Dean told him, turning him around in the direction of the few rooms out the back.

Dean must have turned him around too quickly, because Ash covered his mouth, swaying like he was on a rollercoaster, and then practically ran for the bathrooms, pushing hunters out of his way. Laughing, Dean took a swig of his beer, happy that at least he could hold his liquor. Ash and Sam were just pansy asses.

Or maybe he knew when to quit drinking. Give Sam a couple, and all of a sudden he can't stop until he's a hundred percent tipsy. Almost unable to remember his own name.

"So," Sam began as they sat at the bar, 'supervised' by a worried Ellen. "What made you act that way yesterday?"

Jeff lurched. The questions he had been thinking he'd be asked wasn't the questions he was getting. "Um, I didn't have enough ... to eat, that's all. Was too wrapped up on a hunt. Lame excuse, I know," he answered Sam's skeptical expression. "But sometimes ... you just need to hunt more than you need to eat."

"And you pushed my brother over, why?"

God, now he wished he never agreed to this. "Do you like stranges coming up behind you? Especially if you're a hunter?" Oh, great. Now he felt like a psyciatrist for answering a question with a question. "Look, I apologised to Dean about that. He's fine with it."

But Sam was still suspicious. He was very protective of Dean, and if anyone was hurting him, they would be ended. It was pretty much vice versa too. One of the many things about being brothers. But since he didn't know Jeff all that well, he couldn't make a judge of character, and by such he couldn't accuse.

"Alright," he sighed, watching Jeff's eyes narrow, trying to figure his motives out. "I'll let you off the hook this time. Do it again, and I won't be so forgiving." He got up and left, searching out Dean in the masses.

Jeff slumped down on the bar when the man with a brown mop on his head left. Ellen hadn't been joking, the kid was pretty sharp. He now favoured Dean of the brothers, who just let things slide without question.

"I told you," Ellen said, putting her cash in the register from a particulary needy nineteen year old hunter. "Best watch yourself around them. The brothers are opposites, and that makes them one hell of a team when you put them together."

"Yeah," Jeff muttered, taking a long draught of his beer. "I've noticed."

Casting him a sympathetic look, Ellen turned back to her waiting customers.

Dean pushed his way through the crowd, throwing off some of the drunken hands that tried to hold him. He wasn't in the mood for being groped, and this situation just made him very mad. He even elbowed one of them in the face when they tried for a very ... personal area.

"God," Dean sighed, dropping into a seat at the bar. "Freakin' grabby." He turned his charming smile to Jeff, unawares that he was doing so. "I thought you'd be out there. Or did my brother scare you away?"

Jeff smiled, taking a sip of his liquor. "Yeah ... well, most of them were personal, and something I never want to think about again. But mainly he just scares me."

Dean couldn't help himself, he had to laugh. "Sorry," he choked out. "Its just ... I've known Sam since he was born. Kid wouldn't be able to kill a fly without hosting a funeral for it. He's pretty much got the biggest heart I have ever seen."

"Do you and ... Sam trust so easily?" Jeff asked. "For all you know, I could be a demon or whatnot."

"Not a chance. Ellen took advice from Bobby Singer and now has holy water in the drinks. Even the whisky." Smiling victoriously, he knew he'd won that round. "And if there was a demon in here, they'd steer clear of anything. Preferring to drink from hip flasks or whatnot, even if they don't need to eat or drink, its like a ... precautionary measure."

"And Ellen says you're not sharp ..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Dean let go of that with a shrug, unknowingly doing what Jeff knew he would; let it go. His little brother would have pressed the matter, but Dean didn't. That was pretty lucky for Jeff, and he knew that.

"So, what were you hunting before you came to the Roadhouse?" Jeff asked, experimentally blowing into his bottle to see what sound it made. An excuse not to look at Dean. "I know you had to be hunting something before you came."

Dean laughed. "Busted." Taking a swig of his drink, he licked his lips to prepare for the answer. "Just a demon. Wasn't the smartest we've ever dealt with, I'll admit that. Walked right into the devils trap." They shared a laugh. "Was in the body of some retail salesman, tried to get us to 'buy a house'. As if."

"You ... you don't have a home?"

Dean gave him a sad look. "My mom burned in my family home. Me, my dad and my brother haven't been back there since."

Jeff cringed, and silently berated himself. "I'm sorry," he muttered, bowing his head down to advert his gaze from Dean further.

"No, its okay," Dean replied immediately. "You didn't know." He never liked people apologising to him when they found out about his deceased mother. He never understood why they did that, they were never around that night. No where near Lawrence, Kansas, and if they were it was purely coincidence.

"People apologise because they are sad about your loss and want to do something to help, but can't Not because they feel they had to." Did Jeff read his mind? He turned to face Dean, and was stoked at how ... green his eyes were. Even in the dense surroundings, the colour was shockingly vivid. Jeff found he had to turn away so he could breathe again. "Anyway," he began again to change the subject. "I heard about ..." Damn it. "You know what? Nevermind."

"No, no," Dean objected. "What were you going to say?"

"Something else you may not want to think about. Your dad."

Dean nodded, darkening. "What about him?" He tried to sound like he didn't care if Jeff wanted to talk about his father or not, when he cared very much about it.

Jeff cringed. "I told you nevermind," he muttered, though the expression on the man next to him egged him to say what he wanted to. "I heard that he died recently, and I wanted to say how sorry I am for that. John helped me out of a tight spot a couple of years back. Good man, good hunter."

"Yeah, he was," Dean admitted slowly. "Not so much of a father though," he added in an undertone, but it was heard loud and clear over the music and the shouting.

"What do you mean by that?"

God, how was Dean going to explain this one? He didn't want to burden his issues on someone who didn't deserve it, but Jeff was seemingly so easy to talk to right now, and he really wanted someone to talk to about it. Sam would be all 'I told you so' about what he had to say, and he really wasn't in the mood to deal with it. The look in those bright blue eyes told him he could say anything.

"G-gahd ... It just the way he raised me and Sam that's all," Dean muttered, though it carried. "He made me a soldier, and allowed Sam to keep a 'normal' life. Something I never got, and something I probably never would have had ..." He opened his mouth to say more, but smiled. "I shouldn't be telling you this. You don't exactly need to know what's happened in my life. As soon as Sam and I leave the Roadhouse, we will never see you again."

Jeff smiled, and nodded. "Probably not. Kind of depends on where your heading."

"Idaho."

"That's where I'm heading."

Dean looked at him, surprised. "You're going to Idaho?" he asked, a little skeptical of that.

Jeff grinned at the expression on Dean's face. "I am now ... If, you know, you want me around?" He gave an uneasy shrug. "I don't want to force myself on the pair of you. Would be a little bit rude and disrespectful."

"Ha, 'respect'. I can't believe someone is finally showing us some respect. That's something new," Dean laughed. "Let me guess, its because we're John Winchester's son's, right?"

"N-no," Jeff replied, a small hurt frown on his face. "Hunters respect, that's all. But ... if you don't like it, I could just push you into a pile of mud outside and then laugh about it? Would that be better?"

That got the reaction he was hoping for as Dean laughed. "No, don't worry," he choked. "Hunters mutual respect, then?" he asked, holding out his hand. "And yeah, you can stick around with us for a while." Though he was unsure of how Sam would take it.

"Hunters mutual respect," Jeff agreed, accepting Dean's hand in his very firm grip. Dean ripped his hand away, murmering 'ouch'. That's when Jeff knew what he did. "Oh, sorry!" he apologised. "Sometimes I don't know my own strength!"

"No, no," Dean interjected quickly, massaging feeling back into his hand. "Doesn't matter anyway. Barely even felt it."

He knew that Jeff could see right through the lie, but that didn't mean he didn't want to try and reassure him anyway. Before anyone could say anymore, people gathered around in a small circle, all shouting the same thing; "Fight, fight, fight!"

Dean had a hunch as to who was in said fight. He launched himself away from the bar, ignoring Jeff as he called for him to come back. He pushed through the thick wall of people, shoving a few down in his haste, and he didn't care about them. He just wanted to see if Sam was in that fight.

He was.

Sam was throwing punches at a man who was twice his size in bulk, while also trying to defend himself against three other opponents who were picking themselves off the floor like Sam had taken them all Dean watched, one strawberry blond man brought his clenched fist around like he was going to bitch slap, his fist connecting with the side of the younger Winchesters head. That was enough.

Dean launched himself through the rest of the crowd, and started swinging at the man who just sent Sam skidding across the ground. Dean was a more experienced man in the art of combat, and this asshole never stood a chance against him. Maybe on a one-on-two attack.

One on three? Maybe not so much.

He attacked whomever seemed to be throwing the hardest hit, which meant he was taking other blows at the same time. Dean had good hand-eye coordination, managing to block one blow, and launch another, making one stumble back for a breather at one point. But the knee to the groin took him right out.

Suddenly, the score was a little more even when Jeff threw himself into the void, taking the guy who went low with a spinning muel-kick and quickly attacking again with a arm bar takedown. Quickly pulling a gasping Dean to his feet, he launched a roundhouse kick, his boot connecting with a bulky blond's face. Dean got in on the action, but not in the fighting manner.

He took out his gun. "All of you, freeze!" Nobody had to be told twice, even the audience the fight had attracted died down almost immediately. "Sam, get here with me, now." He watched as Sam stumbled toward him, and he grabbed his taller brothers jacket in his tight grip. "You get into another fight with my brother again, I will blow your brains out without a freakin' care in the world. Understand?" The three men nodded, eager to get out of the Roadhouse. Dean was only too happy to comply. "Get out of here, all three of you. Or I will shoot you."

Again, they didn't need to be told twice, they scampered to their feet and ran like scolded dogs. Right out of the Roadhouse, the door smacking against the outside wall loudly. It was only then did Dean see fit to put his gun away.

"Sorry," he apologised to Ellen. "I'll get Sam sorted out now."

Dean was true to his word, grabbing Sam's jacket tighter and hauling him up the stairs to their room, seeing Jeff bring up the rear. He didn't much care if Jeff came along or not; he was going to be hunting with them anyway.

His balls were still smarting from that low blow, but it wasn't anything he hadn't felt before. Besides, he had bigger fish to fry with Sam.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he exploded as Jeff shut the door. "Three on one? What are you, drunk?"

Sam rolled his eyes, sitting himself down on his bed. "No. They were just upset that I won a pool game for a couple of hundred dollars, that's all." He held up the money as proof. "They got mad that I won, and they picked a fight. I had it covered."

"Yeah," Dean replied sarcastically. "Look pretty controlled from where I was standing. If Jeff and I hadn't gotten involved, we'd have been scraping you off the damn floor!"

"You didn't need to get involved, Dean! No one asked you to!"

"So I'm supposed to just watched while my little brother gets his ass handed to him? Is that what you want me to do?" His voice rose in a massive amount of decibels, his face going red from the exertion, and he knew he was going to have another one of his panic attacks he rarely had.

Sam sighed. "Dean, why don't you calm down," he said, knowing full well of how bad the panic attacks could get. "Nobody got seriously hurt, I'm fine. Its all okay -"

"No! It is NOT OKAY!"

And that did it, Dean bent forward, clutching his knees struggling to breathe. He was lightheaded and felt like he was going to faint. In that same moment Sam and Jeff rushed forward and helped him down on his bed, Sam immediately rushing for some water, knowing that fluids helped with this kind of thing. Only once did Dean have a seizure because of this, and Sam vowed never to let that happen again.

Ever. "Here," Sam said, Jeff elevated Dean's head so the water could go properly down, Dean choked on a bit of it, but he was otherwise okay.

Finally, after mere minutes, the attack was over. Some might have even thought it was an asthma attack. Hell, maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. All Sam knew is that it scared the hell out of him whenever it happened.

"Never," Dean gasped. "Get into a fight again ... not without me."

**To Be Continued ...**


	3. Bisexuality

Chapter Three

A couple of hours after the fight saw Dean in Jeff's room, needing a little bit of time away from Sam, who understood as much as he didn't like it. Dean found that Jeff had made his room almost abstract. Colours lit up the walls from where he threw bandana's and whatnot on the lampshades, there were some of his own paintings on the walls, tiny so they would be easier to carry around. This room had an aura of homeliness about it, something Dean could get used to. Maybe he should let Jeff decorate every room they stayed in. This was cool.

"Man, you have got one wicked room," Dean told Jeff as he walked out of the bathroom. "Doesn't Ellen get mad at this?"

"No, her and Jo thought it would be better if ... I don't know. 'Liven up' the place." He chuckled and sat on the edge of his bed, wordlessly telling Dean he could do the same. "But from what I just saw, this place is lively enough."

Dean nodded, choosing to wander around the room, and hearing no complaints about it, he knew he was allowed to. "Hey, who are these guys?" he asked suddenly, taking a photo frame off the cupboard and held it up.

Standing up, Jeff looked over Dean's shoulder. "Oh, those are my parents," he said, smiling. "I left them back home in my little 'village' - if you will - in the backwoods of Montana. They never liked the idea of me going hunting, so they tried to stop me, fat load of good it did. I've always been the stubborn kind."

"Heh," Dean laughed. "I know what that's like. My whole family is regarded 'stubborn'. My dad especially."

Jeff glanced down at Dean, still leaning over his shoulder. And people said Jeff was an enigma, Dean sure could rival that. "Yeah, so my dad is a hardass," he continued, almost darkly. "A Christian, hates same-sex marriage, bi-sexuals and lesbians. Because love means opposite genders," his voice grew sarcastic. "My mom is more open, she doesn't care what kind of love a person has, as long as they are actually in love."

"So, your dad wouldn't care if a girl was beaten up by her boyfriend or husband ..."

"If they were the opposite gender? No he wouldn't. He's blind to hurt and pain." Jeff rolled his eyes. "He thinks he's a God believer. But answer me this, if God wanted everyone to fall in love with the opposite gender, why did he create so many different people? Love doesn't have a specific type. Its varied."

"So you believe in God?" Dean asked.

"Not really, I like not having a religion. But get this, my mom is a buddha. My whole family has some kind of religion. Remember that man who created his own? The Scientology? Yeah, people hate seeing something new and unexplained, so there is controversy. Same with Christian's, Catholic's and Buddha's. People don't know how or why, so they protest. Mocking and ridiculing a religion. Its sick and wrong. People have got to believe in something right? Children; Santa. Teenagers; true love. Adults; religion and core beliefs. And for some; good and evil. We're not all that different."

"Some people believe in racism, too," Dean put in. "You know. Blacks and whites can't be seen in one another. Black rap artists hating on rappers like Eminem 'cause he is white, that sort of thing. Its profiling because of skin colour."

"Right, that's profiling. Putting people in different catagories because of their outward appearance. Nerds get shoved to the library. Tall people to the basketball team. Losers to the gutter, that sort of thing."

"The hunt is my religion," Dean muttered, setting the picture back down on the place where it had been and turned around.

He paused and closed his eyes when he almost ran into Jeff, who was standing behind him, shirtless, his jeans riding low to show prominent hip bones and blue boxers. Dean couldn't help himself, and in that moment, he took in all of his friend's appearance that didn't involve the shirt. Jeff's chest was chiselled, the skin just as tanned as the skin on his face, like he had been out in the sun shirtless one too many times. He had faint six-pack abs.

"Are you okay?" Jeff asked, looking down at himself like he expected to find a tarantula on him somewhere. "Is something the matter?"

Stop looking. "No," Dean assured, ripping his eyes away to look up into the blond's face. "Don't worry about it, I was just thinking."

"And you were staring at my body, why?" Jeff's tone was not accusatory, but light and amused. "No, I'm not implying that you're gay or anything, I'm just asking."

Dean shrugged, going red and looked down at the ground to draw attention from that. "Just daydreamed and happened to be looking there at the time," he covered, and that sounded much better in his head than it did on his lips. "If you're getting the thought that I like you in that way, don't. You're not the type for me. I like females, dude."

"I do to," Jeff told him. "Hope your type isn't blonds with blue eyes."

"Funny, because it sounds like your explaining yourself," Dean rebuked wittily, eyeing Jeff's long, straw-like blond hair and striking blue eyes. "Tell me, are all blonds dumb?"

Jeff smiled. "You mean, do we go into hospitals complaining that our whole body hurts when we poke ourselves, only to find we have a sprained finger? No. In fact, I'm pretty smart for my hair type. Profiling, Dean."

The shorter of the two grinned. "But I bet you get your blond moments, huh? Walking up a down escalator, walking into doors. I travelled with a blond who wanted to know what a shop was before he remembered."

"Rest assured, Dean. My blond moments consist of saying inappropriate sex jokes at the wrong times. Sometimes drunk."

Together, they sat down on the bed and continued to talk about their dumb moments until Dean inadvertantly fell asleep, head falling back onto the pillows, and his light snores filling the room. Jeff smiled softly at the sight, Dean, who seemed so wild and full of life while he was awake, seemed so young an innocent when he was asleep. He had to admit, that was quite a sight for sore eyes.

To be nice, Jeff allowed Dean to sleep for a couple of hours, in which he took a shower, brushed his teeth and went to get some more meat to eat just in case. The Roadhouse had cleared up a bit after the fight and wasn't as crowded and loud as before. Some people had retired to their rooms or gone back out on the road. Jo was hustling someone for money over a shooting game, bullseyeing every one of those deer that popped up. It seemed to finally look like the Roadhouse he knew. When he retired back to his room, he found Dean had buried himself under the covers, sleeping on his stomach with the pillow meshed inbetween his arms. He didn't want to move Dean and disturb him, so he just let him stay there. It wasn't like he was going to get some sleep anytime soon.

Three in the morning. Jeff was up reading a crime/mystery novel that was almost in tatters at it had been read so much. He really had no problem reading books over and over again. To get lost inside another world was the main attaction. Someone else created a better world to get lost in, and he was better off to enjoy it while he could. One day he might not have these trivial things anymore. Every so often, he would glance over at Dean to see if he was doing okay, and every time he smiled when he saw the elder Winchester still peacefully asleep. Jeff couldn't believe this was the same man who had pulled a gun on three people during a fight earlier that night. Hard to think that that man was the one sleeping in his bed right that moment. Sam came by around three-thirty, demanding to know if Jeff had his brother. The younger Winchester smiled at his brother.

"Don't worry," Jeff assured. "He'll be alright here. I kind of don't have the heart to move him just yet."

Though he didn't voice it out loud, neither did Sam. Dean just looked to peaceful there in someone elses bed, that it seemed too mean to move him. Sam was also amazed by the unrelated hunters room, how bright and homey it looked, probably why his brother fell asleep in there so easily. Normally, Dean would have come out and fallen asleep in the same room as Sam.

"You can come in if you want?" Jeff offered, holding the door open wider. "I don't get much sleep, and if you'd rather stay with your brother, you're more than welcome."

Sam smiled and stepped inside graciously. "Are you an artist?"

"I like to think so. My dad reckons its a waste of time an effort when I could be doing other more important things," Jeff explained, staring at the ground with a grin on his face. "Just sometimes I feel like he doesn't get me. Doesn't like what I am either."

Narrowing his eyes, Sam had to wonder. "And what's that?"

"I'm bi-sexual. You know, able to fall in love with both girls and guys. Don't worry though," he added, wondering if that was fear in Sam's expression. "I don't fall in love easily, so I'm pretty sure you and Dean are safe. I won't come onto you two."

Sam nodded. "I wasn't thinking you were a freak or anything," he assured. "Just came as a bit of a shock, you know?" Jeff nodded understandingly. "So, you're coming on the road with us then, huh?"

"Yup," Jeff sighed, sitting on the bed near one of Dean's socked feet. "Got to say, though, I normally hunt alone, 'cause nobody wants to hunt with a 'freak' like me. So when Dean said I could come along, I thought the world had just crumpled. I thought nobody would ever allow me to come along with them. I mean, I don't have the luxury of a sibling or anything. I got to tell you, my parents always wanted a girl. Now they've got a son who can love both genders. Oh the shock to my Christian father and Buddha mother, and she comes from an Athiest background."

Sam chuckled. "I know what its like to feel kind of like an outcast of the family. When my brother was about six or seven, he was taken out for shooting practice. Bullseyed every one of the cans. I was twelve when I went out for shooting practice. Bullet just grazed the side of one of the can. The rest got knocked down by the wind."

"You should have seen my fathers face when I started shooting at cans with a friends revolver. I got four out of five, would have gotten the fifth one of dad hadn't have started shouting me. Pulled a knife on him because I thought someone was going to attack me." He chuckled. "Worst decision I ever made. Never pull a weapon on a religious man. He'll get God to smite you for the rest of your life."

"Sounds almost as bad as my dad. Though he carried an extensive amount of weapons in his truck."

Jeff leaned back, planting his elbows on the bed, having to readjust one of them as they came down hard on Dean's ankle enough to make the sleeping man jump. "You know, I've heard a lot about John Winchester from Dean, but he never tells me much more than the fact that he's stubborn."

"Its not exactly a subject either one of us want to talk about."

Nodding his head, Jeff returned his gaze toward the ground. "Yeah, I guess its not something people do want to talk about, I suppose," he admitted, with a semi-shrug. "Got to say, he was a good man though. I'm sure he went out in style."

"He sold his soul to bring Dean back from the dead," Sam blurted out before he could stop himself, a little angry that Jeff had thought John went out in the classic Winchester style. "He finally put his family first and brung Dean back. But Dean came back ... different. A little more darker, cut off a vampires head with some kind of electric saw, got blood all over his face and then later celebrated about it with Gordon Walker." Jeff's expression went dark. "I see you've heard of him."

"Heard of him?" Jeff laughed, almost like a maniac. "He killed my best friend."

Sam looked down at the ground. "Sorry. Was ... was your friend -"

"A vampire? No. But my friend - well, old friend - was a hunter, looked at all the cattle mutilations, and found the vampire nest. Knew from then on they weren't killing people, and tried to stop Gordon from going after him. Gordon cut off his head for trying to reason with the man. He knew that they weren't hurting anybody, yet he still wanted to kill them. Shows you a little something about just how crazy and possessed that pathetic excuse for a human being is."

"I know what you mean," Sam replied, shaking his head. "We got to the nest just in time to save this one vampire that got captured. Gordon sliced my arm and dripped my blood on her face. Watched as she brought out the fangs and tried to reach for my blood, and then she just denied it. Dean had been all for killing them, but when he saw this, he made the decision to let her go. Hunters kill evil, and they weren't evil."

Jeff nodded. "Though Gordon deserves to die a thousand torturous deaths for what he did. He also hunted down my family on my dad's side, nothing but decapitated heads, and useless trunks left of them. That's when my dad brought us to the village in Montana. Raised there since I was about a month old."

It was then when Dean started to stir, just a little wiggling, and then it got a little more intense, like he was searching for something. But just as soon as it started up, it died back down, and he continued to sleep on.

Jeff watched him for a few seconds longer, and then turned back to Sam, a calm expression on his face. "You don't judge me for my sexuality?" he asked, as if he were surprised. "You think I'm some sick freak with the devil riding on my shoulder?"

"Is that what you think about yourself?"

"Nope. My dad. Say's I've got the devil in me, because my first relationship was with a guy. Never got serious, my dad whacked him over the head with a sawed-off shotgun just as we were about to kiss. Good times."

Sam's eyes widened. "Geez, when Dean experimentally told our dad he was gay, all he got was a 'I'm here for you' speech. Never a shotgun. Boy, I'm pretty sure I hate your dad now. Whatever happened to that guy?"

"Got severe depression when he was seventeen," Jeff replied seriously. "Two years after the forced break-up. He'd tried to go out with females, but his sexuality up until that point had been pretty out there. Put a pistol in his mouth by the time he was eighteen. Parents have been devastated ever since. Anybody who knew and liked him well enough never got over the trauma of losing him. Guess you can blame my dad for making us separate. If I had been his boyfriend for a while longer, I'm pretty sure he'd still be alive right now."

Sam bowed his head. "Sorry."

Jeff chuckled humorlessly. "For what? The last time I checked it was my dad who stormed it, Stephan who put the gun in his mouth, and me for never having the courage to get him back." He then laid down on the bed, one of his arms raised, leaning on one of Dean's legs. "I'm sorry, you probably want to go to sleep now, huh?"

"No, I like all this story telling thing."

"Ha!" Jeff laughed, and it finally seemed genuine. "My 'story telling' is exactly what put Dean to sleep."

Sam smiled softly, not finding anything worth laughing about. "He seems to fall asleep pretty easy when he feels he's in a safe enviroment. Dean sort of has this ability to read people and their motives, if he doesn't fall asleep with a gun in his hand, you're trustworthy. If you're deemed untrustworthy, he'll stay up until you fall asleep. I don't know, I guess that's Dean Winchester for you."

Jeff smiled again, arching his head up and to the side to see Dean's face better. The older Winchester hunter was still soundly asleep, unaware that people were talking about him, his lips were parted softly, and his chest rose and fell heavilly as he pulled in a breath and expelled it. One of his hands were curled over the blanket softly, the other was still underneath the pillow, no doubt his arm would be numb when he woke up.

Without warning, Jeff thought Dean was absolutely friggen' perfect.

**To Be Continued ...**


End file.
